


For Death We Struggle

by DecayingInRed



Category: Panic Room: House of Secrets
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Mental Illness, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecayingInRed/pseuds/DecayingInRed
Summary: Confrontation often leads to uncomfortable revelations.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written anything for PR in ages (I'm so sorry!). Was kinda put off for writing anything for this fandom after someone stole one of my fics and posted it to one of the communities as their own. I reported it and thankfully it's been removed. So I just wanted to say: I never post any of my stories to Facebook or any other similar site.
> 
> Apart from that, this was just something that was playing on my mind for the last few days. Wanted to try something out. Enjoy!

She gazes back, eyes defiant to the lens, offering a challenge too tempting for him to refuse. Lips tightened into a snarl, she imagines his own curling up in arrogant amusement. The camera stared back, speakers remaining silent, only the wind bellowing outside breaks the silence. 

Never before has she ever wanted to thrust herself outside to bear the biting October air. Cheeks yearning to be slashed by the onslaught, lungs crying out from sucking in the stale and mouldy air and wanting to breath in something fresh, tongue eager to taste the raindrops as her hands reach up for the sky. 

Natural impulses call for her to return to the outside world and truly experience it for once in her life. Yet her cage forbids it.

Seven obstacles still attached to the entrance door; cool metal glinting in the dimly lit hall.

Determined as she was to remove those shackles others lacked the same will.

A hanging. Used the bed sheets to tie a half-decent noose. Poor bastard had been counting on a quick death; he failed to take into account the necessary height to be able to snap the neck properly - even that would be luck in itself. One passing Follower had heard the scuffle in his room, struggled to hold his weight up as he screamed  for the doctor. Asphyxiation had taken it’s cruel time to finish off the deed before Jim managed to arrive, already elbow deep in another’s blood.

It wasn’t the first suicide to happen in this forsaken house and it would have been foolish to hope it was the last.

Death was inevitable. The ferryman was not done with this place just yet.

The red light continued to flicker, the camera still fixated on her. She had expected the crackle of speakers and a low, cultured voice mocking her. Nothing.

“You’re a bastard.”   

_ Silence. _

“A fucking coward.”

The wind howled.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you soon and rest assure that I won’t let Jack be the one to finish you off.”

The wind began to scream. A strange mist circling around her feet, kissing her ankles.

_ He’s not gonna say anything. _

How strange...That realisation stung more than any jest he threw at her. Logic argued over the possibility of him being either asleep or absent. Paranoia had something to say to that, however. It had sunk it’s claws inside her skull, refusing to let go and leave her at peace.

Defeated, the young woman dropped her gaze. Forcing her muscles to relax, fists stiffly unclenching as the bandaged wound ached, she turned to take her leave.

“You have something both he and the others severely lacked.” His words were neither belittling or vicious, instead holding a matter-of-fact approach that she couldn’t help but resent him further for. 

Stubborn to the bone she refused to face his all-seeing eye. She despised going along with whatever game he decided to play. “...Which is?”

“Moxie.”

She snorted. “What does it matter? In the end it’s only going to be taken away again.”

The Puppeteer didn’t answer for a time, but when he did the response was not something she had expected.

“It’s the  _ chance _ , my dear Feather. Have my lessons taught you nothing? We all die in the end. Yet it’s that precious time before that happens…  _ that _ is what is worth it.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...Idek. I'm sorry. :/
> 
> Hoping to get back into the swing of things and write more for PR.


End file.
